


Spines

by roswyrm



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Feelings, Future Fic, Gen, Team Bonding, Team as Family, i jsut love the goblin man so much you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: Sasha hurls a dagger at the mage, but they sidestep it.Nice footwork,Sasha thinks, and then the mage fires a spell directly into her ribs, and Sasha's thoughts decay.





	Spines

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in some nebulous future where Everything Is More Or Less The Same, even though it'll actually end up more like "in three months 1/2 the party's dead and ben had to make Yet Another character" but y'know. A Lad Can Dream. Working Title: _is it whump or whoomph or like what_

Grizzop cares. 

That wasn’t the first thing people heard about him, but it was in the top five. _That’s Grizzop,_ he’d hear around the corridors of the temples he was staying in, _he’s a paladin. He talks fast. He runs faster. He’s loyal. He cares._

Grizzop cares about people, cares about his pack. Hamid was hurting, so Grizzop hugged him. Sasha had vanished, so Grizzop went looking for her. Azu fell out of the carriage, so Grizzop jumped after her. Wilde ran himself ragged, so Grizzop dragged him to a stop. They’re his pack, and he’s loyal to them, and he cares about them.

So when Hamid’s leaning against a wall with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his gut and Azu’s out cold on the ground and Sasha’s blasted with a sickly green spell, Grizzop screams. Not in pain — pain be damned, pain doesn’t matter right now — in _rage._ He lines up a shot, and he doesn’t even wait to see if the arrow hits. Grizzop knows it did, knows without looking that the mage has a silver arrow sticking out of their neck. He looses again, aiming at the one who shot Hamid. His shoulder twinges, but he ignores it. Pain be damned, pain doesn’t matter right now.

Grizzop runs (dashes as fast as he can, bolts like something is chasing him) to Sasha and skids to a stop before he can pull her into a hug. Sasha doesn’t like hugs. She’s breathing fast enough that it’s worrying, but not fast enough that she’s going to pass out from hyperventilating. (A fear effect, maybe?) “You okay?” he asks, fingers tensing around his bow. Five bolts of red-orange-yellow streak in and out of Grizzop’s line of sight, and he hears the last enemy fall to the ground. 

(Preferably with five magic-missile shaped holes in their face, but Grizzop isn’t picky.)   
(The chest works too.)

Sasha backs away from him, clutching a dagger protectively to her chest. She’s squinting at him with distrust, getting closer to the building’s walls. (She looks scared of _him,_ and if that doesn’t hurt he doesn’t know what ever will.) Grizzop takes a hesitant step away from her, hands out in front of him, palms up. “It’s just me,” he says gently.

_(Gentle_ is difficult. Grizzop cares, Grizzop cares _so much,_ but he’s not good at being soft. He’s spiny, and brittle around the edges, and that’s served him just fine through his life. But sometimes it doesn’t. With Sasha, brittle doesn’t work, because she’s brittle too. Not fragile, never fragile, but sharp enough and small enough that she could bend too far to be balanced again. The spines don’t do you any good when it’s your friends that get stuck by them.)

Sasha doesn’t get further away, but she keeps squinting at him. She doesn’t say anything. Grizzop says, in as close to a normal tone as he can manage, “Hamid, can you come and see what happened to Sasha?” Sasha blinks at him when he says her name. Like she wasn’t expecting him to know it. She doesn’t look scared, just cautious. Wary. Curious. Not a fear effect, then, but Grizzop doesn’t know what it is. He’s not too well-versed in magic, to be honest.

Hamid limps (oh, right, Azu’s out and Hamid’s hurt) over, and Sasha’s brow furrows. She keeps an eye on Grizzop as she moves closer to Hamid. She pokes the crossbow bolt in his stomach (this isn’t Sasha, Sasha wouldn’t do that, Sasha doesn’t cause her friends pain) and Hamid hisses. “Ow! Sasha!” he snaps, and she flinches back so hard she ends up five feet away. Hamid frowns in confusion. 

Grizzop takes a step closer to him and says, “You see what I mean? The spell did something to her.” Hamid looks about to agree with him when Grizzop yanks the bolt out of his gut. And sure, that hurt like hell, but it would have hurt worse if Hamid had been tense. Grizzop Lays On Hands and Hamid scowls at him. “Sorry. I’ll warn you next time."

(Grizzop cares, but he doesn’t quite know how to show that. Except, no, that’s not it. Grizzop cares, and he shows it in ways they don’t understand. Grizzop lectures, and he yells; he knows that he _shouldn’t,_ knows that the caring that they’re used to is softer than he is. He tries to be gentle and to flatten down his spines, but he _cares so much,_ and his friends don’t know how to care for themselves, and it makes him _angry._ He’s brittle around the edges, but he’s trying.)

Hamid closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and Grizzop can feel the slight hint of magic swirling off of him. When he opens his eyes, they’re slit. Just for half a second, then the pupils expand to their normal-halfling roundness, but Grizzop notices. Hamid frowns harder, the small space between his eyebrows wrinkling in something like anger. “Feeblemind,” he says, and there’s something like bitterness in his tone. “It’s what Kafka cast on me in Prague.” Hamid takes a step toward Sasha (Feebleminded Sasha, who’s baser instincts are to distrust Grizzop and investigate Hamid’s wounds) and she freezes where she is. 

(Hamid had turned into a half-lizard _thing_ that had growled at Grizzop and been a right nightmare to calm down. Grizzop had ended up tying him up with a rope and lugging the Not-Quite-Hamid over his shoulder.)

(Sasha looks like Sasha, and maybe that’s why Grizzop doesn’t want to tie her up. Maybe it’s because they’ve known each other for three months instead of three days.)

Grizzop asks, “What can we do?” and Hamid frowns. He looks pensive. Hamid stops to think less and less and less, these days, trusting his magic to see him through, so _pensive_ is a welcome change.

“Nothing,” says Hamid. Grizzop turns away from Sasha at that, ready to yell, ready to demand _something_ of Hamid— he’s a sorcerer, isn’t he? Hamid’s face stops him dead. “I’m out of spells powerful enough to fix it. We can only keep her safe until the effects wear off or until I’ve rested.” Hamid is scowling, now, pensive and absolutely infuriated. He can’t help, and Hamid has always taken the blame for things he doesn’t need to. (He never seems to take the blame for things he _does,_ but that’s neither here nor there.) 

Grizzop claps him on the shoulder. “I dealt with the feebleminded person last time. Your turn.” Hamid doesn’t argue. Grizzop strides over to where Azu is slumped and rubs his hands together. “Wakey wakey,” he mumbles under his breath as he Lays On Hands. Azu doesn’t stir. Grizzop huffs and screws his face up. “Alright, let’s try that again.” He rubs his hands together harder (he knows that has nothing to do with the spell, but it sure does make him feel like he’s doing _something)_ and this time, Azu jerks, slightly. “Morning!” He greets, and Azu blinks wearily up at him.

“Ow,” she says. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “that wasn’t a great fight for any of us.”

She sits up and asks, “Is everyone okay?” Grizzop doesn’t answer that. Azu notices. There’s the hint of blackened flesh (like spindly roots, like long branches of lightning, like the edges of the crackling starburst that slammed into Azu’s chest) crawling out from under her breastplate. She starts scrambling to her feet anyway, but Grizzop swings a leg over her and sits down on her knees. 

(Azu acts like her party members are cats. If you’re trusted, they might rest on you, and then you have to be very still so as not to lose their fragile trust.) 

Azu stills, hesitant as always to throw him off. “Are Hamid and Sasha okay?” There’s so much emotion in her voice. It rumbles out of her chest and the way her face shifts, the worry is genuine.

(Obviously, the worry is genuine. It’s Azu. Azu probably doesn’t even know the _meaning_ of the word ‘disingenuous’. But Grizzop still checks, still notes down the sincerity of his friends’ voices, their words, the meanings behind it all. Habit. Not a good one, but not a bad one; it’s certainly saved them from a public upset once or twice. Just _a_ habit.)

Grizzop sighs. He doesn’t move, doesn’t let Azu get up, he knows too well that she’ll only scare Sasha with her questions and her size and her volume. “Remember when I was telling you what had happened in the group, and part of it was ‘Hamid got turned into a weird lizard-halfling monster thing’?” Azu nods, worry and fear and concern playing across her face. Heart on her sleeve, bleeding heart in her chest, Goddess of the Heart’s Affairs watching over her. Grizzop couldn’t find anyone more genuine if he tried. “Yeah, uh, the same thing happened to Sasha. She’s not a lizard, she’s just really—” he shrugs— “suspicious of everyone.” Azu frowns.

Grizzop doesn’t quite know what she’ll do, so he stays sat where he is. Azu continues to frown. There’s a long silence. “How did it get fixed that last time?” 

“Mages dispelled it. Hamid’s out of spells, so that’s not really an option. We’re probably going to try and corral Sasha into the room and hope she doesn’t run away.” There’s a particular note in Azu’s sigh that conveys _sadness_ and _exhaustion_ in a way that her words never do. Grizzop stands up off of her and puts a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll fix it,” he assures her.

He hopes he’s not lying.

///

Sasha warms up to him after about an hour in the hotel room. 

(She’d hid behind Azu the whole way up the stairs. The clerk had looked a bit confused when they asked for four beds. Sasha hadn’t come out until they’d opened the door. And even then, she stuck to the walls, not daring to come out into the middle of the room.)

She doesn’t speak at all— Grizzop doesn’t think she remembers how— but she’s put her daggers away. Hamid said the spell reduced you to your baser instincts. Sasha’s baser instincts are _run_ and _jump_ and _stab_ and the party had agreed that none of those were particularly conducive to staying in a hotel room with people she only vaguely recognised. They’d set up a watch; it’s Grizzop’s turn.

Sasha hasn’t slept at all, keeping a wary eye on the watcher the whole night through. And Grizzop knows that she doesn’t remember how language works, but that doesn’t stop him from asking, “Aren’t you tired?” Sasha’s eyes flick open, and her spine flicks straight, and daggers flick out of her sleeves. And then she looks at him. The bags under her eyes are heavier than usual, darker and more prominent. Grizzop tries, “You can sleep, you know. We’re not gonna hurt you.” Sasha leans into the corner a bit more. Grizzop shrugs.

(Grizzop cares about her. Grizzop cares about her wellbeing. Grizzop doesn’t know how to make her understand that fact _normally,_ let alone right now.)

Sasha shifts slightly and lets out a hiss of pain. Grizzop’s head snaps to stare at her. She’s clutching at her ribs, and Grizzop remembers, _hey, didn’t she get one of those starbursts hurled at her?_ And he’s torn between cursing at her or cursing at himself for forgetting, but Sasha interrupts his internal conflict by shuffling toward him. Grizzop stands up from the couch in half an instant. He doesn’t step any closer, though. “Are you okay? Can I help? Should I wake Azu?” Sasha doesn’t actually understand anything he’s saying, and she grabs his wrist. 

He blinks. “Sasha?” She shakes his hand, looking frustrated. She shakes it harder, glaring at the offending appendage, before pressing it gingerly to her ribs. Grizzop is too stunned to– well, to anything. Sasha pulls his hand away, shakes it once more and then presses it back to her wound (Azu’s chest flaked and peeled like a rotted sunburn, and Grizzop can feel by the too-hot way Sasha’s ribs give under his fingers that she’s not much better off) with a frustrated grunt. Grizzop says, “Artemis, I would appreciate some more healing for my friend.” His hand glows, and Sasha makes a satisfied noise. Grizzop gets the feeling that if she knew how to say _‘finally,’_ she would.

Sasha moves back into her corner, but her posture is more relaxed, now. It must have finally sunk in that Grizzop won’t hurt her. She actually falls asleep, head pillowed by her shoulder, a knife slipping out of her relaxed hand. When Grizzop’s watch is up, he doesn’t wake Azu. Sasha looks so peaceful, so at ease, and Grizzop can’t imagine her running off if she wakes up. So he lets himself nod off, a safe distance away from her, but near enough that she can see him. 

(Grizzop dreams of himself, tiny and time-wasting, too young and too youthful to understand that sometimes, you lose people. He takes the younger goblin’s hand and says, “You need to take care of them, okay? Klaasen too, even though he’s older than you.” The younger Grizzop digs his toe into the dirt. “Hey. Look at me.”

The younger Grizzop doesn’t. He just asks, “Are you ever going to forgive me for not knowing what’s going to happen to us all?” When Grizzop meets his own eyes, they aren’t red. They’re brown, with irises and pupils. Like Sasha’s, like Azu’s, like Hamid’s. “I can’t save them. But you can take care of your family _now.”)_

(Grizzop dreams of his pack and his family and his clutch, and they are all such different people, but he loves all of them with such fierceness that their differences don’t matter.)

Something flicks his ear. Grizzop smacks it. Sasha makes a noise of annoyance, or maybe pain, or maybe offence. Grizzop scrambles up. She rubs at her hand and scowls at him. “Are you _you_ again?” he asks, taking a moment to wipe away a bit of drool.

Sasha shrugs. “I mean—” Human speech! Grizzop sticks his arms up in the air and cheers— “yeah, I think so?” Grizzop forgets, and by the time he remembers, his cheek is smushed into her stomach, and his arms are wrapped around her waist. “Uh. Yeah, no, it’s… I’m alright, Grizzop,” she says, and she pats at his head and his back awkwardly. Grizzop leans away and looks up at her with a smile. Sasha awkwardly smiles back. 

(Grizzop is brittle and sharp-edged, and so is Sasha, but they’ve managed to meet in the middle, somehow. Soft underbellies and eyes squinted closed in happiness undercut their defences, but Grizzop trusts Sasha to pick up where his leaves off. And maybe, somehow, in the past couple of months, Sasha’s started trusting him to do the same for her.)

(Grizzop was too young to save his clutch. He’s not so young anymore, or at the very least, not anywhere near as stupid. He’ll keep his pack safe, and he won’t have to lay down his spines to defend them.)


End file.
